


The Key that Leads You Home

by bilbobagginshield



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Post BotFA, crying forever, just sappiness and crying, no graphic descriptions of wounds, sappy romantic metaphors, sorry this isn't a fix-it, two people who probably would have been in a relationship but then one died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilbobagginshield/pseuds/bilbobagginshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo is found disoriented and hurt. He is spirited away urgently to the camps to find out that he is asked for; Thorin, King Under the Mountain, is dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Key that Leads You Home

Bilbo woke to the copper tang of blood in his mouth. A sharp twinge of pain radiated out above his right ear, like a nudge to remind him of where he was. His face pulled into a grimace, the skin a tight mask of dried sweat and dirt. 

Bilbo scrunched his eyes closed tighter, trying to hold on to the hope that he would wake up from this, that he was safe at home in his smial and this was all some nasty dream brought on by eating a bit of bad mushroom. As long as he kept his eyes closed, the pain and blood would fade away until there was nothing left but his soft bed and warm quilts. 

A scuffling nearby startled him back to full alertness. His vision swam at having sat upright so quickly, but he could make out the blurry figure of a man picking his way around the rocks. Were his legs not feeling as shaky as stalks of corn in a storm, he may have run up the man in relief to find someone else alive--someone that was not a goblin. As it were, he managed to shout hoarsely down to him. 

"Hullo there!" 

The man swung about, hand flying to the pommel of his sword in surprise. "Who is it that speaks from among the stones?" he cried, looking all around but never stopping at Bilbo. 

The ring! Bilbo slipped it off and pocketed it as fast as he could. 

"I am Bilbo Baggins! Of Thorin Oakenshield's company!" 

The man turned towards him. His face showed mostly relief, but Bilbo found himself worrying over the crease between his brows. 

"It is well that I've found you! You have been missed, and we've looked long for you. You are needed in the camps." The man walked over to where Bilbo sat and crouched at his side. He frowned at the side of Bilbo's head. "You've been hurt." 

Bilbo's hand automatically jerked up to the aching part of his head. It throbbed in time with his quickened heart beat. "Not badly, just a bit of a nasty bump. Though I'm not sure if I can walk yet." 

"Then I will carry you down." With only that as warning, Bilbo yelped when he was scooped up into the man's arms as if he were as light as a child. "Your hurts will be seen to straightaway." 

"It's really not as bad as all that," Bilbo protested. He looked down on the camps as the man strode down the slope. "My friends-- my companions, I mean. Are they all right?" 

"I couldn't say for sure, lad." 

The man picked up his pace. After what felt like only a few moments, he set Bilbo down in front of a large cloth tent and walked off with a nod. 

No sooner than had Bilbo started looking around for a familiar face did Gandalf stride out of the tent. 

"Bilbo, my dear boy!" His arm was in a rough sling, and Bilbo noticed the way he leaned more heavily on his staff than usual. "I was starting to wonder if even your great luck would see you safely through." 

"I'm not sure what chance a hobbit stood of coming away unscathed if even a Wizard hadn't." 

Gandalf looked down sheepishly at the sling. "Ah, yes. A terrible business, the whole thing. And quite nearly a complete disaster! But tales can wait for now." Gandalf looked down at Bilbo with eyes softened by sadness. "You are asked for." 

With some difficulty, Bilbo righted himself onto shaking legs and hobbled after Gandalf into the tent. 

"Hail Thorin, King!" Thorin looked up at Gandalf's greeting. His eyes fell immediately onto Bilbo. "I have brought him." 

Bilbo froze. He felt Gandalf leave, but he couldn't move closer just as he couldn't flee. Thorin lay on a low cot, bloodied and bruised. His piercing blue eyes were dull and swollen as he looked at Bilbo. Bilbo's throat closed, all words choked back as if there were a hand squeezing tightly around his neck again. 

"Bilbo." 

He startled at his name, rasped so weakly out of Thorin's mouth. All he could do was stare. 

"I wasn't sure you would come. I thought maybe..." His gaze settled at Bilbo's throat. Bilbo's hand flew automatically up to clasp his neck. The skin there twinged. Thorin winced and cleared his throat. "But you came." 

"Of course I did. Of course I would." Bilbo's head shook as he felt himself step forward. It felt as if he were not in his own body, as if he were looking down on himself and Thorin from above. This couldn't be real. 

Thorin grimaced and looked down. "I have acted deplorably towards you. I have shamed myself. I would beg for your forgiveness, if I thought I were worthy of it." 

Bilbo crossed the room in a few strides, coming to stand at the side of the cot. "Thorin, you weren't yourself. You were sick and-- and I had secreted the Arkenstone away from you and to your enemies!" Thorin looked up at Bilbo, dumbstruck. "You have my forgiveness. To have shared in your perils and adventure-- you've given me more than any Baggins' deserves." 

Bilbo felt a warm hand cup his cheek. He hadn't realised his eyes had closed. He opened them slowly. Thorin's eyes were crinkled with fondness. If they shone a bit with what could be tears, Bilbo would never mention it. 

"No. There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." Thorin gently guided Bilbo's head down to rest against his. Bilbo's eyes fluttered closed again. "Meeting and knowing you was the greatest gift Mahal could have bestowed upon me." 

Bilbo clenched his hands in Thorin's blankets and breathed harshly through his nose to choke back the sob that threatened to tear its way out. 

"Please don't go." His voice sounded small to his own ears. He felt Thorin's hand curl into his hair, before dropping down. 

Bilbo opened his eyes to see Thorin pull one of his silver chains up and off over his head. He took one of Bilbo's hands in his own and pressed a key into it. His grandfather's key, the one that helped spark this quest. 

"This quest has come to an end, for all of us. It's time for us to go home." He curled Bilbo's fingers gently closed over the key. It was still warm from where it had rested against Thorin's chest. "I have been foolish and blind. I burned to reclaim my old home under the mountain. I failed to see the one standing in front of me." He brought Bilbo's clasped hand to his heart. "I am glad to have finally seen it." 

Bilbo felt the tightness in his throat release all at once and didn't hold back the sob that rushed up. 

"This mountain will always be open as a home to you, Bilbo Baggins." 

Bilbo pulled back and gave Thorin a watery smile. Thorin looked at peace as he gazed back up at Bilbo.

"Farewell, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain." 

"Farewell, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire." 

The journey home, in Bilbo's opinion, was much smoother if much duller. He's quite sure there was a time not too long ago where he would prefer his trips to be as such. Now he finds his hand drifting up to the key that lays heavily over his heart, remembering the clang of Dwarven axes and hammers. 

Once he's shooed off Lobelia and all of the neighbors and family nosing around, once he's settled back in right and proper, he hangs the key up by the chain on a peg next to his fireplace. Some nights, though, he wears it again as he sits in his chair and looks over his maps. He finds himself humming along to a familiar old tune and remembers a rumbling voice, deep and strong as the Lonely Mountain itself, singing to him of adventure and of home.

**Author's Note:**

> First, I hate my summary. I'm really sorry. I'l have to think more and maybe change it.
> 
> Second, I'm sorry. I was thinking a lot about the BotFA and thought about what if Thorin gave Bilbo his key. After crying for a solid 5 hours, I write this from 4-6 am.
> 
> Edited by [gendersquare](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gendersquare) and [cappybara3](http://cappybara3.tumblr.com).


End file.
